‘Anyhow,’ Tom snapped irritably. ‘I want to get out to this family today. At the speed you drive, we’d still be in the car park back at headquarters.’ He was hot, and tired of having the various minor issues with his car pointed out to him by all and sundry. Louise hated the Citroёn and had been at him to get rid of it since he’d bought it.

‘There’s the stud farm Willie told us to look out for,’ his deputy said, pointedly ignoring his boss. ‘We should pass through Luttrell village shortly and then we just keep going straight. We come off the main road at the sign for their landscaping business. That will bring us to their house.’

Sure enough, within minutes they were driving through a one-street village. They passed three pubs, a post office, a hardware store and a garage with a Centra supermarket.

‘Hello and goodbye, rural metropolis,’ Ray murmured, as the car swept down the main street in less than a minute.

Tom soon spotted the sign for Holland’s Garden Centre and Landscaping.

The road they turned onto was narrow, bordered by high cherry laurel bushes. Further along, they crossed a little stone bridge over a river and took the right fork towards the Holland estate.

‘I think that’s it,’ Ray said, pointing at a set of black and gold wrought iron gates that lay open ahead. ‘Looks like these folks have a few bob.’

Tom nodded in agreement as he cruised slowly along the cypress-tree-lined drive. They emerged onto a large gravel parking area beside a plush green lawn.

‘Would you look at that,’ his deputy whistled. ‘It’s a mansion.’

Ray had grown up on a council estate. He lived in an apartment now, bought in the boom and in massive negative equity following the recent recession and property crash. While it was a step up from the three-bed terraced houses in his former estate, he could only dream of owning a sprawling home like this one.

The building that faced them was Tudor-style – white-fronted with a heavy external chimney to one side and steep-pitched roofs. The sills of the mullioned windows were hung with boxes ablaze with summer blooms.

Tom parked the car beside a brand-new silver BMW and they got out, feet crunching on the pebbles underfoot.

The front door opened as they approached, a frazzled-looking woman hurrying out onto the porch to greet them. She was rake thin – so tiny she looked like a collection of sticks that had been thrown together and covered in a spotty blue dress. A small dog rushed past her ankles, barked at the new arrivals, then dashed onto the perfectly manicured lawn like it was possessed. The woman opened her mouth as though to call the dog, but then decided not to bother. There were more important things to think about than whether the terrier was going to shit on the grass.